everything we had, everything we did
by Masquerading with Shadows
Summary: You taste like blood, he says. Will/Jem. For Dicey.


"There is a wall you have built about yourself, Will, and I have never asked you why. But no one should shoulder every burden alone. I thought you would let me inside if I became your parabatai, and then you would have at least someone to lean upon. I did wonder what my death would mean for you. I used to fear it, for your sake. I feared you would be left alone inside that wall. But now…something has changed. I do not know why. But I know that it is true."

"That what is true?" Will's fingers were still digging into Jem's wrist.

"That the wall is coming down."

It's at that point that Will's lips crash down on Jem's. He manages to slip his tongue inside, kissing far too frantically and desperately, while Jem's movements remain calm and slow, his hand going to rest on Will's knee, a comforting gesture more than anything else. Finally, when Will feels lightheaded and his fingers turning numb around Jem's wrist, he breaks apart, only to press his forehead against Jem's just as quickly. The coals have almost gone out now, their dim light causing shadows to fall across Jem's face. Even so, Will can see that his lips are swollen and his cheeks are slightly flushed, eyes shining in the darkened room.

He opens his mouth to say, _you're beautiful_ or _you can't leave_, but he knows Jem would just shake his head at that and leave, instead of how is he now; his face soft as he waits, giving Will all the time he needs.

"You taste like blood," he says, his voice cracking. He hears Jem let out a soft chuckle, a crooked smile on his face, and knows it was the wrong thing to say, that Jem thinks that's him accepting the inevitable. He shakes his head, feeling the tightness in his throat and chest returning, his hands going to cup Jem's face and his lips resuming their assault on Jem's. Gradually, he feels Jem's hand move to grasp gently at his arms, and despite himself, Will relaxes into the touch, Jem's hands making warmth spread throughout him.

He doesn't know how long they kiss for, only that he could do it for the rest of his life. He wonders whether he could keep Jem like this, giving him all his air and his life; whether it would weight out the poison in his veins. He knows he'd be willing to try.

"Will," Jem says softly. He doesn't open his eyes. "Will," Jem repeats.

"What?" he asks, his eyes meeting his. The coals have completely burnt out by now, the light from the moon just visible in the window taking its place. With his pale skin and silver hair, Jem is stunning; ethereal. He brushes his thumb of Jem's cheekbone. Once again, he is struck by the injustice – the impossibility – of the death robbing the world of such beauty. _You can't_ – he grabs onto Jem's hand just as Jem lets go of his arms.

"You should probably go now," Jem says. "It's late. We should both be in bed." He slips out of Will's grasp, his eyes just missing Will's as they stare up at him, the slightest hints of confusion and hurt on his face.

"I want to stay," says Will. "I could sleep in the armchair, and you could sleep in the bed. Nothing out of the ordinary. I merely wish to keep an eye on you during the night, to see that your health remains."

"Will," Jem says more firmly. "I wish for you to leave."

"And I wish to stay," Will replies, the trace of a smirk on his face even as he clutches at the fabric of his pants tightly. Jem sighs heavily, starting to move towards the door, Will quickly getting up from the chair to follow him.

"Will," Jem says again, turning around so that they're face to face. "You should leave before you do something you regret. Enough has gone on this evening as it is." Will takes a step closer. Jem takes a step back (distantly, Will thinks, this is the only dance he's ever learnt, and it will certainly be the only one he ever plays).

"I have done many things in my life that I regret," he says. He hears the soft thud of Jem's back hitting the wall behind him. Will only stops walking when their shoes are touching and their lips are mere centimetres apart. "This would hardly be high on my list." He leans forward, his lips brushing the side of Jem's face, moving towards his jaw, as Jem turns his face away.

"Will," Jem says warningly, though he's slightly breathless.

"James, _please_," Will says, the last word getting stuck in his throat. With a slight groan, Jem presses his lips to Will's, his fingers sliding into his hair and pushing him closer. Will echoes the action with his hips, pressing Jem further against the wall, one of his hands on Jem's hip and the other clutching at his shirt. This time, Jem is just as frenzied as Will, tugging at his hair and biting at his lip. He can still taste blood, but with a hint of sweetness too, the two tastes clashing together. For a moment, he thinks of what he's doing, of the fact that he's _kissing James_, and he feels hot all over, silver burning beneath his eyelids.

Slowly, his hands move to push off Jem's jacket, proceeding to untuck his shirt from his trousers when there's no objection, though he feels the tension in his shoulders. He gasps when he feels Jem's hand make its way under his shirt, his skin feverishly hot as it touches his skin. They've done this once before, though neither of them will admit it. Will had managed to sneak liquor into the Institute, and had for once succeeded in convincing Jem to share it with him. The next morning they'd woken up on the floor of the training room, slightly sore and silently vowing to never speak of it again.

Will's lips move to Jem's neck, saltiness and sweetiness mixing on his tongue. There's a thrill in the thought of marking Jem as his, Tessa flashing quickly in his mind before he feels Jem's fingers skirting across the waistband of his pants, ready to dip further at any moment.

"We can still stop," Jem says, far too calm and not gasping nearly as much as Will would like. Instead of replying, he scrapes his teeth over the mark he just made, smirking when he hears Jem moan quietly. However, it's quickly wiped from his face when Jem's hand slips below his waistband and starts to palm his cock, Will gasping and biting at Jem's collarbone as he fumbles with the buttons on his pants, desperate to get them off and feel more contact between them.

At last, both their pants are pooled around their ankles. Will tugs on Jem's hand, leading him to the bed and pushing him down on it. Covered in a thin layer of sweat, Jem's skins gleams in the moonlight, his whole body turning a silvery white. It makes Will's breath catch in his throat. Finally, Will lies on the bed with Jem, the faint scent of blood and burning sugar filling his sinuses and making his head spin. Jem's state had been temporarily forgotten, only for it to come thundering down on him again. _You can't leave me_.

"James," he says. Something must have shown on his face as Jem's expression changes, and when he tangles his hand in Will's hair it's to crash their lips together, all teeth and tongue as he raises his hips to slam them into Will's, both swearing at the frustration.

"Finish what you started," Jem says, harsher than Will was expecting. When he looks down at him, his eyes are almost vacuous, no longer welcoming like they were before. He presses his fingers harder into the flesh of Jem's hips, vaguely hoping that they'll leave bruises. He feels Jem dig his nails into the skin of his back, moaning at the pain and pleasure as they rut against each other.

Eventually, Will collapses next to Jem, spent and sticky and tired and confused and the thought of Jem's room being empty burned into his brain. He starts to reach for Jem's hand before he thinks better of it.

"You should leave. There's a handkerchief in the draw next to you to clean yourself up with." Will's throat and chest feel tight, as if he can't quite breathe properly. His actions feel robotic as he follow Jem's instructs and puts on his clothes. He turns around to look at Jem, who's drawn the sheets up to his torso and is looking at the wall, his arms folded over his chest.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I –"

"It's perfectly fine," Jem replies. "It's only a crime if parabatai fall in love with one another, after all." He opens his mouth to speak, his head racing as he thinks _breathe breathe you need to breathe_, even though he knows he is, that his lungs are working and that his blood is still flowing and a voice is screaming in his head. He closes his mouth, eyes falling shut with it, wondering if he imagined the edge of bitterness he heard in Jem's voice or not. He wants to apologise and kiss him and love him all at once, but he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Yes, quite right," he says instead. He tries to smile, walking towards the door. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob. "Goodnight, Jem," he says.

"Goodnight, Will." His voice is soft and polite, back to his old self as if nothing had happened at all. Will walks out and closes the door behind him.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own The Infernal Devices. The first couple of sentences belong to Cassandra Clare (taken from Clockwork Prince).**

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**A/N: First time writing TID and second time writing smut overall. I also haven't written anything for a couple of months. If you have any questions/critiques/comments then feel free to review or PM.**


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